


Shame of Lint Value

by tea_petty



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-31 23:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: Muriel has a dream, Jenna helps him dispel it.





	Shame of Lint Value

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Tumblr; tea-petty.
> 
> This apprentice belongs to @aoi-hina, who commissioned this piece from me.

_It was lush around here - that was the first thing Muriel noticed. Greener than the scraggily brush that grew (if you could call it growing) around his quaint cottage, the very same ones that tapped at his window like an unfurled claw or rattled in the wind like a windchime made of bones. It was thick and soft, but almost stifling, like the thick furs he had at home._

_Muriel pressed back against the wall of foliage, stubbornly trudging through, to what, he wasn’t quite sure._

_He knew this perhaps, wasn’t quite real though, despite not knowing fully it was a dream. For one thing, while the winter winds howled and clawed at his windowpanes in the frigid Vesuvian night, here it was warm; humid even, like a jungle, though there wasn’t a forest of such climate anywhere near where he lived. Clad in his usual bare-essential cloths, and harnesses, his skin was still clammy with sweat, and the fronds of underbrush seemed to smear it around his slick skin as he passed, like a musky paintbrush. _

_There was fresh water nearby he gathered, and this knowledge filled him with a sense of need he only immediately placed as his body’s response to the heat. Water that didn’t cling and wither on him like old fruit on a diseased tree; water that ran, skipped and hopped over stones, glittering in the attention of the sun. It was a couple more hurried steps later, that he peeled back the branches to reveal the source._

_A small pool filled, fed into by the pile of rocks that spilled and dropped the water at several playful levels. The water was dyed a myriad of pinks from the wildflowers that sprung up at the perimeter, and green from the lush foliage, against a backdrop of deep, clarifying blue. Muriel knew without testing it that the water was clean. It was also beautiful._

_And so was the girl bathing in it._

_The dreamy colors dappled into her skin, gleaming with a slickness of its own. Where the swirling colors ended, and the pallor of her soft skin began, Muriel couldn’t exactly tell; but he was too shy to figure it out. The urge to avert his eyes itched in him. _

_He could not._

_As streams of water ran down her body, his eyes ran up, swimming upstream of the envious rivulets, almost unwittingly. Her long legs, the slope of her buttocks, the notches of her vertebrae evident through her thin, almost translucent skin, and the curves of her breasts. He felt his face heat, making the humidity feel like a draft in comparison._

_The woman turned her tawny eyes to him, brown curls clinging to her skin in limp tendrils. It is then Muriel realized that the woman held a bucket over her head, before she upturned it on herself, dousing her form._

_It was Muriel that flinched as the water made contact with her body. He felt a tightness in him that was infuriatingly familiar, and his cock stirred beneath his loincloth…_

Muriel startled himself awake, his skin as clammy now in life as it was in his dream, despite his bedroom being void of the humid jungle and pool. His door, slightly ajar, was still awash in a warm orange glow; so, he concluded, the fire was still burning in the other room. This must’ve been what had spurned his feverish dreams in the throes of one of Vesuvia’s most ruthless winters to date. 

However, his diligent hearth could not account for the flames that licked at him from the inside. Nor could they account for the hardness at his groin.

His fingers inched downwards towards the waistband of the light trousers he donned for sleeping. His eyes flew to the gap between the door and the wall as his hand wrapped firmly around his cock. 

Jenna wasn’t in bed with him, which meant, she was probably out in the glade, collecting herbs or ingredients. Moonflower and nightroot were at their peak when harvested during the witching hours, and it wasn’t particularly strange for her to disappear for a few hours in the night to partake. Which left him the opportunity to…_partake_…as well…

Muriel’s eyes had already slitted shut as his hand slunk down his length. His pulse leapt as he stroked, feeding the smooth heat that started to coil in him, and coaxing a grunt from himself. 

He didn’t dare think of Jenna; the sultry, wet, dream version, or the one who was probably unknowingly picking flowers as he did this. In his mind though, the hand wrapped around him was smaller and daintier than his own, with skin like velvet.

He worked himself, body splayed as luxuriously as he could allow himself on the furs of his bed. Heat trickled through him, much like the water in the pool would have, pleasant and light. In spite of this though, Muriel’s brow twitched into a troubled furrow; he wasn’t new to the desires of his body but reconciling those with his fair Jenna was something he still struggled with. Who was the Scourge to put his hands on her? 

Cock still hard, he could feel the musky dribble of precum start to bead at the tip, spread thin over the rest of his length with each furtive downwards stroke. A second skin – and one Muriel was still ashamed to bare. 

The only sound was that of the crackling fire in the next room, and the sound of his rasped palm on himself. Muriel couldn’t explain exactly when, nor _why_, but his eyes cracked open one moment, and he jackknifed to a sitting position the next.

The divide between the door and the wall had grown larger. Much larger. And now, where a sliver of the rest of his cottage had lurked before, stood a woman, a basket with tiny, silvery-blue flowers poking out, luminescent in the glow of the moon and her shock. Her eyes were wide and staring, from their initial position at his face, all the way through their migration to his hand, which was wrapped around his cock. 

Muriel was shellshocked and didn’t recover enough to jerk the nearest animal pelt over his exposed body until the red had thoroughly seeped into his face. His dark green irises found the furthest corner of the room, but the heat of the shame that threatened to melt him reasoned that still wasn’t far enough.

Jenna approached him cautiously, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were trying hard not to scare away a deer. As the distance between them closed, Muriel felt the searing heat at his face grow more searing still, and much to his mortification, the heat at his groin did as well.

The bed divoted beside Muriel when Jenna sat down at it, the space between them big enough to just barely keep him from fleeing, but small enough that her scent could wash over him. It stoked the wanting flames in him, and he resisted the urge to move his hand again. 

Their eyes locked. Jenna leaned in, and Muriel forced himself not to lean back. She was so close now that he could count her eyelashes. At this range, the perfume of wildflowers that hung around her was near intoxicating, and the body heat that radiated off of her spilled easily onto his lap, seeping through the furs that covered his erection as if they weren’t even there in the first place.

Muriel swallowed thickly.

“I wish I had known,” Jenna murmured softly, her gaze achingly soft through her lashes, “you could’ve come to me with…your needs.”

Muriel felt a pang of guilt ring through him like the wind carried the moan from a tuning fork. He should have. He had wanted to.

But the workings of one’s heart and the whimsies it carried with were still quite alien to him, despite the months that passed in domestic bliss with Jenna. He was invigorated by her like nothing else, wanted for her, like he’d never wanted before, and because of this, he was also petrified.

He would’ve sooner fought a thousand beasts, all more hulking and monstrous than himself, before confronting the carnal nature, of the delicate tenderness he felt for the magician’s apprentice.

He’d seen her naked only a couple of times. He’d touched her, even fewer. Acknowledging this made Muriel’s cock twitch privately in the dark, needing to rectify this as soon as possible. Muriel steeled himself through the shame.

Jenna blinked sadly at him, before carefully moving a hand to his lap. He stiffened beneath her, though the expanse of firm muscle beneath the pelts told her she was only touching his thigh.

“You always seem so careful on the rare occasion you…_touch_ me. You never ask for anything, you never _take_,” Jenna winced, her words becoming splintered glass once they left her lips. They cut her. “Do you…not want me?”

Muriel hesitated, looking like he was in pain. Talking about these things could damn well kill him, but to leave Jenna to her assumption would be much worse. He fidgeted, adjusting his position on the edge of the bed to turn slightly in her direction. One hand emerged from the layers of furs to tentatively grab hers. When Jenna didn’t pull away, Muriel tightened his grasp, meaning it, and trying to communicate that to her as well.

So many things he wanted to tell her raced through his mind, tripping in on themselves as they struggled towards the tip of his tongue. How his clumsiness in intimacy was due to his own feelings of inadequacy, rather than anything of the sort on her part. To tell her that he’s always lived quaintly, and so he loves much the same. To tell her that his own hands, all too familiar with blood and tragedy, were undeserving of sampling the suppleness of her flesh, and dearest affections. He wanted nothing more than to pull her on to him, to crush her to him, and whisper with every whisper in his lips, heart, and bones that he didn’t just desire her, but he needed her.

“I…want you,” was all he managed to croak out.

Jenna blinked at him, wetness beading at her lashes like dew on grass at the cusp of a spring morning. Muriel could sense her reluctance easily. While he wasn’t so great at communicating, he could read people like he could read the phases of the moon and tracks in the snow.

“More than I…can say. More than words do justice.”

His heart wedged in his throat, and he couldn’t bear to look upon her trembling visage any longer. Muriel’s head bowed until his forehead reached her shoulder. From here, he could feel her heat pressed to him, and every breath he took was saturated with her. He inhaled deeply and resisted the urge to taste the exposed skin at her collarbone.

“I want you more than _I_ do it justice.”

When Muriel came up again, something flickered in the depths of Jenna’s eyes, too fast for Muriel to discern what it was. She leaned in, and her weight on the bed melded with his. Her hands found his lap, and everything beneath, and it was then that he realized she was trembling. She paused a few inches away from his face, eyes half lidded with want, though he knew he’d have to close the distance this time.

His rasped palms found her face, and the second they did, he felt his breath evacuate him. She sighed and leaned into his touch, her lips falling open, the phantom of a request lingered between them; _please_.

Muriel collected every piece of himself he could muster, ready to present it to Jenna in this one kiss. He leaned in, tasted her warm, sweet breath, and felt his chest squeeze. Taken aback, his head ducked again, forehead touching hers. His eyes fell shut, and one might think he was praying. It wasn’t far from the truth.

The bridge of his nose skimmed hers, the precursor to what both of them ached for, and it was evident Jenna knew this in the gasp she let out not a second before his lips melded to hers. Slightly chapped but firm, Jenna reveled in the contact like it was the last of anything she’d ever need from this lifetime. She caught herself before she could throw herself into him, and Muriel, sensing her urgency almost as clearly as he sensed his own, threaded his fingers through her hair, anchoring Jenna into a position where he could savor her.

Jenna was surprised with the litheness of his tongue; she had half a mind to open her eyes to watch him handle her with the detail and care he was. She tasted him; not just him, but his handling of her, and it took her breath away. She kept her eyes pinched firmly shut though, knowing full well that once she opened them, the magic would dissipate like groggy, half-baked dreams in the arrival of a milky dawn. He relented first, like saplings in a strong wind, and then he built like the waves at the wharf; with a swaying intensity that carried her away and by the time she realized it, she was already too far gone. 

His lips settled at hers, pushing for every pull she gave, lips, tongue, and teeth present but docile. He couldn’t bring himself to bite.

“You can –“ Jenna broke off into a furtive breathe as Muriel slunk down to her neck, trailing kisses all the way, “- take more liberties,” Jenna moaned, reaching her hands out to find Muriel, wherever they might land, trailing downwards and trickling heat through him.

Muriel’s fingers slid downwards from Jenna’s hair, down her neck, tracing past her jugular, and igniting a trail of heat. Jenna gasped, as his fingers mapper her, tunneling beneath the hem of her shirt, but no further.

Jenna’s eyes fluttered, her hands sliding over his, and shifting them upwards beneath her shirt. His fingers traced her skin like it was crystal.

“Touch me,” Jenna pleaded, arching into him, “as you like.”

The sight of her giving herself to him lured an eager curiosity out of him. Muriel’s hands skimmed around her belly to find the small of her back and Jenna giggled breathlessly at the tickling sensation he left behind. Suddenly, she felt herself being hoisted forward to straddle him. Jenna let out a squeak of surprise, her fingers fumbling as they found the expanse of her lover’s broad chest. Muriel gently moved her legs so that they were wrapped around his waist.

They looked at each other, red-faced, and timid; like it was the very first time they were making love. 

From where Jenna sat now, she could feel his cock pressed up against her in the weighty resistance beneath the furs. She wondered if he could feel how she burned for him. 

Jenna’s fingers trailed across Muriel’s chest, following the puckered scar tissue she came across. Muriel was deathly still beneath her, and when she hazarded a look up at him, she could see that his eyes were far, far away. 

She didn’t want him to retreat though.

Lips replaced her fingers, Jenna leaned into trail kisses, feeling the warm, firm muscle beneath her, and following some instinctual path to the area right above his heart. A small smile threatened at the corners of her lips, as she felt him relax in her arms, his pulse fluttering beneath her like butterflies.

She laughed lightly and turned to meet Muriel’s puzzled look. His eyes held the prelude to shame.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she reassured, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, “I’m just really enjoying this.”

He winced, as if missing the dark curtain of hair, he normally let hang. Jenna persisted onwards, rising so that she could reach his face. His eyes shut just as she went to his brow and pressed a gentle kiss where a streak of white scored his eye. She paused along her path to his jaw, nuzzling her nose tenderly against his and earning a pleased grunt from him. As her lips touched his cheek, strong fingers smoothed up beneath the loosened fabric of Jenna’s shirt, tracing her vertebrae before bringing her tightly against Muriel.

Both of them looked downwards, to where their chests met, heart to heart. The swell of Jenna’s breasts peaked out from her half-buttoned shirt – the only layer that separated them here. Muriel watched the even rise and fall of her chest.

Jenna watched Muriel study her, waiting for when he’d turn his lush irises to her, asking.

His warm hands trailed up her sides, forcing Jenna to bite back the nervous, ticklish grin that threatened at her lips. His palms reached up to cup her breasts through her shirt. Jenna gasped, and when Muriel looked to her, he saw that she had pinched her eyes shut, her cheeks, bright red. His cock twitched at the feeling of her soft, weightiness in his grasp. His thumbs stroked across them, and he felt the hardness of her nipples through the thin fabric. He wondered how much of her he could make out through the thin, white fabric of her oversized shirt had the lights been on. Something hungering reared its head in him, and he wanted desperately to tunnel his hands beneath the fabric and tear it from her. But this was not the way Muriel loved.

Instead, he swallowed thickly.

“You…went out like this?”

When he’d moved her earlier, he’d remembered distinctly feeling the plushness of her thighs as he did so. She wasn’t wearing trousers either. Her eyes snapped open.

“It was just a quick errand,” she said indignantly, “we bathe outside, you know.”

Muriel grunted. Fair enough.

His eyes fell to her exposed collarbone and the tantalizing expanse of skin below. The way the shirt cut off the view from the rest of her, despite it not leaving too much to the imagination anyways was criminal. Muriel started at the buttons, bending over to brush his lips against the hollow of Jenna’s throat. 

She gasped as his lips met the sensitive skin.

“_Oh!_”

The feeling of shedding her clothes made desire run rampant through her, pulling her taut and scrambling her thoughts like the eggs from their humble chicken coop, until there was nothing concrete she could anchor herself to, to make sense of anything, save for Muriel, and the feelings he aroused in her. 

She felt a coolness wash over her exposed breasts. In the low light, heat seared her skin from the inside, tinging the tips of her ears red, as a sudden fluttered shyness rose in her. Her arousal balked at this development and without thinking she reached up to cover herself.

The beginnings of quiet protest began to rumble in her lover’s chest, and she felt a strong viselike grip on her wrists manacle them behind her back. The added force at the small of her back bent her body towards Muriel, akin to that of an offering; the heat suffusing her cheeks was dizzying.

“No need,” he mumbled into the crest of her collarbone, “this suits you.”

Jenna felt her chest heave as Muriel’s warm breath fanned over the valley between her breasts. A precursor to the flecks of pleasure that jolted through her as she felt his rasped kisses against the swell of her curves, and his mouth close around a nipple. A hand came up to palm the other one, without clothing this time, and she felt slickness seep out of her as he rolled a hardened peak with his thumb.

Jenna shuddered beneath his ministrations, shifting under his touch like it was his hands’ purpose to be there. As he nuzzled into a breast, and took a heady breath in, Jenna writhed in his lap, grinding herself against his stiff length.

Muriel let out a sound of surprise, his eyes widening the barest hint at the feeling of a silky wetness against his erection. 

No underwear either. 

He wanted nothing more than to bury himself into her then, to feel the push and shove of their bodies, to know that he held the honor of being inside her, and to know that perhaps nothing else in this world could rival that feeling. But the thought of ending this so soon in a hastily chased climax tasted bittersweet amidst the herbal, and faintly floral decadence of her skin.

Jenna clutched him as close as she could, and still, it wasn’t close enough. Muriel kissed downwards, traversing the valley between her breasts. He loosened his grip on her enough to let her pitch backwards into the soft conglomerate of pelt lined pillows he owned, before continuing his journey - past her naval, encroaching on the curls at the apex of her thighs. She fell backwards with a light yelp, jockeyed further by this small display of dominance. This is where Jenna retracted her legs, folding them in to block her lover’s path.

He pulled back enough to regard this change, before turning back to Jenna, her face beet red.

“Is this not okay?”

Jenna opened her mouth to say something, but not so much as a trace escaped before she snapped it shut again. Muriel’s fingers trailed lightly down her sides to the generous give at her hips, kneading the soft skin.

“It’s not that…” Jenna started, her words quivering in the beginnings of a nervous stutter.

His eyes bored into hers. Then what?

“You’ve never…? I mean, aren’t you worried about the _taste_ –“

Firm hands parted her thighs before hoisting them up enough to fit snuggly over his shoulder. Muriel leaned in, close enough for her to feel his warm breath at her sex.

She shivered in his grasp, feeling her lower lips twitch at the thought of whatever he might place at them.

“No,” he said simply, and then he placed a deep, open mouthed kiss at her mound.

Jenna arched into him immediately, and he clutched her to his shoulders, ensuring that his mouth remained at her. He gave a long lick, tracing her slit before nuzzling deeper into her folds to drink in her heady scent. 

The motion of his mouth on her, drove her hips upwards and against him, the scratch of his stubble sending prickles of pleasure through her. Jenna couldn’t help but risk a glance downwards, meeting his gaze. She’d never seen him like that before; his usually soft-hued pensiveness was sharper now, more focused. He looked the sort of man to take what he wanted, as he took her, and for just a moment, Jenna thought perhaps this man could’ve been the Scourge after all.

But then he kissed her so tenderly, and each soft, whisper of his palms on her skin spoke in infinite, things he didn’t trust his voice to say to her – all of them tender.

Muriel pushed his tongue experimentally into her and caught her readily as she contorted; putty in his very capable hands. Keeping his mouth melded to her, he reached a finger up to brush it against her swollen sex.

Jenna whimpered, parting her thighs wider in an attempt to push herself further into his touch. As his knuckle traced the seam of her cunt, it made a mortifyingly wet sound. Muriel knew his lover was flushing a brilliant crimson before he’d looked up to watch her face, a small smile tugging at the corners of his own lips. 

Feeling the divot where her entrance was somewhere along the path of touch, he experimentally pushed a finger in. Jenna’s breath hitched; he could _feel_ it, a stutter in her entire frame that started in her lungs, and made her quiver slightly around him.

“You’re so wet.”

His voice was so low, it was practically growled into her.

“That’s what you do to me,” she murmured, one arm reaching up to lay at her forehead, conveniently saving her from meeting the tempered depths of his gaze.

His finger moved easily in and out of her; Muriel inserted a second finger and was surprised to see that she took it relatively easy as well. With two fingers, he moved more slowly, not wanting to hurt her, though the growing volume of his touch and her slick sex suggested anything but.

He busied his lips with placing scratchy kisses at her, as his fingers continued their steady rhythm. He noticed when Jenna fell behind his simple pace; when she tightened around him haphazardly. Once, then once more. His third and fourth knuckles brushed at her clit, and Jenna relented to the pleasure that bowed her body like fronds of grass underfoot.

“Jenna,” he turned his gaze to her, eyebrows raised slightly.

At the sound of his voice, she bucked into him as her orgasm quaked her smaller frame.

He jerked back; he’d never seen her like this before. The yearning heat at his cock urged him on though, and he resumed his ministrations obediently as his grip anchored her to him.

Jenna keened, her back arching as the ebbing waves of her climax melted into jolts of overstimulation, sharp like a cattle prod where the friction of his touches – as tempered and worked as the man making them – made contact with her sensitized skin.

“Muriel,” she whimpered, attempting to wriggle away from the onslaught of sensation.

He sampled her lower lips one last time for good measure, before allowing her to wriggle free, giving him the chance to bring a wrist across his mouth, to clean her from him.

She lay there panting for a few minutes. Muriel took this time to lay back on his forearms, his cock still painfully erect and unaccounted for through all this. Jenna locked eyes with her lover briefly, before she turned her attention to his length, nestled against the wiry, black curls between trunk-like thighs.

She sauntered up to him on all fours and smoothed her hands up his thighs. Muriel stiffened beneath her touch, and leaned back further, but could not bring himself to jerk his length away from her scrutiny, or the delightful heat in her breath.

Jenna let her fingers inch upwards still, brushing lightly over his hipbones, before moving inwards towards what she sought between his legs. Muriel’s own warm grasp came to rest atop hers.

“You…don’t have to,” he sounded pained, like it might kill him to send her away.

Luckily for him, Jenna had no plans to abide.

“I want to,” her lips curved upwards, and eyes glittered devilishly; though the hell’s crimson that dusted her cheekbones detracted from the impish illusion.

Muriel was still watching her with a tight expression when her lips closed over his tip. He sighed heavily, the end part scratching into a hearty groan as his fingers smoothed up into her hair and tangled in it. She took more of him between her lips, her tongue moving against the underside of his sensitive length. Her eyes found his as she hollowed out her cheeks and bobbed. He could see the desire glazed in her eyes, catching in her irises like color in blown glass. 

If looks could’ve killed, he would’ve died a very happy man.

Muriel grunted, his grip on her tightening, though he still fought against the urge to push her down.

“_Jenna_.”

It was a plead as much as it was a warning. 

Jenna’s hands pinned his hips; something that would prove to be a futile act as she took him again, more deeply this time. At the achingly relenting sound the large man let out below her, Jenna couldn’t help but laugh softly, his cock still halfway to her throat. She trembled around him as a result, and now Muriel’s grip tightened just shy of painful.

Jenna felt herself being jerked downwards; his tip brushed the back of her throat. She felt her eyes water as she gagged.

The pressure at her head instantly disappeared, and suddenly Muriel was soothing touches through her scalp, across the flat of her cheekbones, and at her jaw. He crooned to her with a gentleness she’d seldom heard him bare to humans.

She recovered as quickly as she could, and then bobbed enthusiastically again, taking him deeply, relaxing her throat muscles to avoid the same startled response from last time. Muriel shifted beneath her, still obviously feeling guilty. Jenna watched it victoriously as the flare in his arousal melted it away.

She felt him twitch in her mouth, tasted the rush of heat that accompanied his musky scent as it filled her senses. He was close. Jenna wanted nothing more than to lunge for his finish, but his strong fingers encroached on her again, and gently raised her up.

“Wait,” he whispered hoarsely.

Jenna looked at him, batting her eyelashes unintentionally, but driving him a little crazy, nonetheless.

“I’m…I might…”

Jenna licked her lips, very intentionally.

“I can help with that.”

Muriel flushed so darkly; she could make out the shadows of the lovely hue even in their already night dampened room. He shifted again; his sustained arousal was making him restless, uncomfortably so now. 

“Not like this,” he started and then broke off, whatever words that were supposed to come next died with the next wave of crimson.

“But,” Jenna scooted closer to him, “maybe another way?”

She smiled encouragingly and leaned into him. Muriel’s eyes flicked downwards to regard the luscious way her body hovered above his. His Adam’s apple twitched, and Jenna knew it was a silent consensus.

“So where then?” she asked, her expression turning more pointed in whatever she was cooking up.

Muriel regarded her, face still tight and red.

“Inside.”

He didn’t need to specify that he didn’t mean in her mouth.

Jenna felt herself grow wetter, and a hand slipped down to the apex of her thighs rubbing gently at her sex. She was positively dripping by now and the small movement didn’t go unnoticed by Muriel. He took her into his strong arms again, taking the obvious bait. Jenna bit back a laugh of delight.

He sat back, spreading her thighs so she was straddling him again, her legs draped over the sides of his. She rutted against him knowingly now, placing her hands firmly at his broad shoulders to allow her more control of her movements. At the feeling of her slickness on him again, Muriel’s hands moved to her hips, and guided her into a rocking motion, before both decided it was sufficiently _insufficient._

“Ready?”

Muriel helped Jenna raise herself up, before she slowly started to ease herself back down onto him. She moaned heavily in response, as the engorged head of his cock pressed at her entrance.

Beneath her, Muriel was as taut as the string of a bow, the feeling of her velvet heat on him rallying him to thrust into her, and yet every other part of him holding him in place, so that his lover could adjust to his girth. 

Feeling him stretch her was almost a spiritual experience.

It wasn’t without pain; that much Muriel could garner through the way Jenna’s nails bit into the flesh of his shoulders. Persistently, he pushed into her, but it was slow coming. Her jaw tensed as she gritted her teeth through the splitting soreness in her.

One hand came up to stroke her cheek tenderly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she gasped, “I just…need to adjust,”

He was as still as the grave, beneath her, even fully hilted into her. Jenna’s chest heaved as she breathed through the adjustment period. She wasn’t surprised; he was large, and despite the need to adjust, she was grateful for his comforting firmness beneath her. 

As suddenly as night turned melted into day, the pain gave way to tentative pleasure. A sweetness she felt inside of her, and that drove her hips, almost of their own accord, in a rolling motion at her lover’s.

She could feel the halt in him as his breath caught in his throat. She jostled herself atop him now, and suddenly his soft caresses felt like claws hovering at her.

“You can move now.”

She’d intended to say it softly, like summer rain, with the tenderness befitting of their coupling. The luxurious glide of his satiny skin inside her though pressed it out into a sultry moan. Muriel’s face flushed, but he never missed a beat as he pulled out to the tip beneath her and thrusted up into her again. She felt the slap of his hips against her and couldn’t help but reciprocate the violent cant and rear of the motion. His hands clutched her closer, his lips found hers, and then her jaw, and neck as he thrust eagerly into her wet heat. Jenna bounced on his lap and groaned into his mouth as she felt the wiry hairs of his torso brush against the hardened peaks of her breasts.

Muriel’s resolve was crumbling at an astonishing rate. His chest ached raggedly as he held Jenna in his arms and buried himself in her. This is what he’d been avoiding for the past few months? And out of the fear that he was not a whole enough man for her to take into their bed? He’d never felt more complete.

His hands were restless, mapping the soft give of her as they roamed her, catching in her hair at times so he could better sample her lips again, or else, trailing downwards to palm her breast, thumb stroking her nipple. 

Jenna was on the precarious edge of her own climax when he kissed her again, the coiled heat of her arousal wound so tight within her that she could barely react in time to his kiss. Her eager, wanting kisses turned trembling and loose as her lips fell agape, and a breathy pant escaped. 

She contracted around him, pulling him into her more though it wasn’t possible for them to be any closer than they already were. He recognized this clumsy pattern from the last time he’d felt her on the brink of orgasm. One arm clasped around the small of her back, holding her in place as he thrust into her at an unrelenting pace, the other snaked upwards to her breast again, feeling the force with which his thrusts wracked her frame, and rubbing at the tip of her breast at a pace that was just shy of painful.

His sudden roughness yanked Jenna back into the high of her climax, the heat released from her coiled arousal swelling into vicious sweetness through her and giving way to the slickness that seeped out of her. She felt her thighs grow sticky, but if Muriel noticed, he never let on; never broke his rhythm.

“Again?” he grunted, into her neck.

Jenna was grateful he hadn’t tried searching her eyes for the answer.

“Yes.”

Pride glowed in his chest, amplified by the searing heat of his desire. 

When the tingling in her limbs ceased, Jenna was able to wrap them snuggly around Muriel, keeping her flush to him as his own rhythm started to waver. She could feel him twitch in her, felt the suffuse of heat that seemed to be the preamble to orgasm and knew Muriel wasn’t far from his own release.

“I think,” he said in a tight voice, “I’m almost –“

Jenna grounded herself to him through the tremors of her post-release sensitivities.

“Come for me,” she edged her chin up enough so that her lips were at his ear.

His hold on her tightened, and he skipped a beat before hilting himself in her absolutely. She felt him twitch inside her again, and Jenna groaned at the feeling of his warmth spilling into her. 

Muriel sagged heavily against her, throwing Jenna off balance, and sending them both careening into the soft nest of pillows and furs below. At this sudden change in position, Muriel was pulled from her, and Jenna whimpered softly at the glide of his spent length now leaving her. Muriel rolled onto his back, eyes shut, and face unbridled from the somber gravity it usually held.

Jenna turned on her side and watched him. It was so rare to see him like this; a treasure amidst many in this room tonight. Bliss was positively radiant on him. She didn’t dare tell him though, out of fear of scattering the moment away.

As her eyes fluttered shut, Jenna felt a weight settle across her. Peeking an eyelid open, she saw the blurry silhouette of her lover swim into focus, his arm thrown across her and easing her closer to him. Her nose bumped against his collarbone gently as he brought her into him, and his warm grasp on her faltered only to swath their naked forms in the warm pelts strewn across the bed. 

Jenna nuzzled closer into Muriel, feeling the shade of a blush heat him down to his shoulders. She pressed herself further into his reverent clutch until her consciousness ebbed away and her breathing slowed to match the rhythm of his own thrumming pulse, as it sang against her cheek through the hollow of his chest.


End file.
